Shadows
by BackToTheFifties
Summary: Lost children, presumed dead. Rise of evil, beginning to spread. Does a young Force-user of ambiguous moral values hold the key to the redemption of the Skywalker lineage, and will she aid the rise of a new Jedi Order?
1. Chapter 1

**Part One**

Ami rushed to the Forward Command Center where she knew her mother was briefing troupes, planning battles, and whatever else war generals do while on duty. An alarm blared somewhere outside the fortress, heralding the arrival of an enemy battalion. Her progress was slowed by multitudes of passing Resistance fighters, who were racing to arm themselves for the ensuing battle, and the little girl she was carrying on her shoulders. Ami and several other politicians' children had been looking for tree frogs and light beetles on the outskirts of a nearby jungle; however, as soon as they heard the siren begin to blast, all eight of them ran back to the fortress as fast as their little legs could go, with Ami straying to the rear of the pack to ensure the smallest of them made it to safety.

The youngest of the Mud Warriors, as they dubbed themselves, was Ilyaa, a Twi'lek toddler who'd taken a shine to Ami when they'd met the day before. She hadn't been able to keep up with the rest of the kids, all of whom were at least twice her age and three times as fast as she was, and was too scared to do much more than cry anyway.

"It's okay, Ilyaa," Ami gently reassured her as they sped through the stone corridors. "When we get to my mom, she'll help us find your parents and get you out of here. My mom's the General, you know. She can do _anything_." The two companions rounded a large pillar and entered a tight, well-hidden servants' staircase that lead straight to Forward Command. Ami had discovered it when they first reached the base, and had since used it many times to play pranks on the stuck-up command officers, most of whom were mean to her when her mother wasn't looking.

Ascending the stairs with a toddler on her back was hard for Ami, who was trying desperately to hide the foreboding that had been bubbling in the pit of her stomach all week; she could feel it growing stronger with each step she took. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, her hands were trembling and her breath was coming in short, painful gasps. She felt like the oxygen was being sucked out of the air as the walls closed in around her, Ilyaa's arms became a noose around her neck, and every unexpected sound and shadow caused her heart to jump. Something very, _very_ bad was about to happen to them all.

With Ilyaa still in tow, Ami pushed through the stone door and into the buzzing command center. The lights from dozens of tactical stations stabbed at her eyes, making them blur. Her hands automatically rubbed her eyes in an attempt to clear her vision, and when they smeared moisture all over her face she realized she was crying. The foreboding was beginning to envelope her as she pushed toward the middle of the room. _Mom!_ she cried out in her mind, _Mom, where are you? Please help me!_

Suddenly, she could hear her name being called from across the room, but when she tried to reply her voice froze and her eyes began to blur with tears again. She vaguely recognized Admiral Statura's voice as two hands gently guided her through the fog into her mother's loving embrace. General Organa continued commanding the troupes over Ami's shoulder while she caught her breath.

When she had finally recovered enough to be cognizant of her surroundings, Ami noticed that Ilyaa was no longer clinging to her back. "Ilyaa?" she cried, jerking out of her mother's arms and frantically searching the room for any sign of the toddler's small, purple lekku.

"It's all right, sweetheart," Leia said, gently stroking Ami's hair, "Ilyaa's father is taking her to the transport ship with the rest of the children." Ami heaved a sigh of relief and buried her face in her mother's shoulder. "Why are you so panicked, princess, hm?"

"I… Uh… I just feel like something really, _really_ bad is going to happen." Ami whispered. "Can we leave, mom? Please? I don't like it here any more."

Leia searched her daughter's face with an expression of mild disbelief. "I think it would be a good idea if _you_ left with the other children on the transport ship, princess, but I can't leave. Not yet, anyway. You know why I can't leave."

Ami's panic began to settle in her chest, making her tighten her grip on her mother's arms. "No, please! I can't leave without you! Let me stay with you, or go with me. I don't want you to leave me."

"General!" Admiral Statura called, interrupting Leia's reply, "The transport ship has to leave within the next few minutes or they won't make it safely off the planet. You need to send young miss Solo now, or she stays here until the battle is finished."

Leia nodded, her mouth set in a firm line. "Have Lieutenant O-Djo escort my daughter to the transport ship," she directed Statura. When she turned back to Ami's tearful face, her expression was hard as stone. "Ami, y-"

"No!" Ami shrieked, tears spilling down her face, "No, I'm not going. You can't make me!"

"Amidala Organa Solo!" Leia barked, "Get a hold of yourself. You are twelve years old, too old for these antics and foolish displays of emotion. When I give an order, I expect it to be followed. Do you understand?"

Ami nodded, head bowed, arms now straight at her side and ending in tightly balled fists. A cold, thin hand gripped her chin and jerked her head up, forcing her to hold her mother's eye-level gaze. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, young lady." Leia reprimanded, letting go of Ami's chin to gently tuck her daughter's hair behind her ears. "I need you to be safe," she whispered. "I love you so much."

"I know." Ami breathed, throwing her arms around her mother's shoulders and holding her in a death grip. "But I'm so afraid!"

"General!" Admiral Statura called, a scrawny human boy twitching impatiently at his side. "Lieutenant O-Djo is here. They need to leave _now._ "

"Go," Leia commanded, kissing her daughter on the forehead and then gently pushing her toward the two officers. "We'll be all right, Ami. Don't worry." Amidala took Lieutenant O-Djo's proffered hand, turning to wave when they reached the entrance to the room. Her mother blew a kiss and motioned her away, then turned back to the buzzing interior of her command center.

Ami and her accompanying officer ran the rest of the way to the hangar where the transport ship was housed. The room was large and daunting, with every sound echoing off the walls, creating an almost unbearable wave of noise constantly pounding on Ami's eardrums. Multitudes of pilots were scrambling into their red and gray X-Wings, while even more technicians and mechanics hastened along their last-minute tune-ups and began packing supplies onto freighters for an inevitable evacuation.

Lieutenant O-Djo stopped a nearby technician. "Where is the transport ship with the children and politicians?" he yelled over the cacophony.

"It just left!" the technician replied, pointing at a large, rectangular ship quickly ascending into the sky just outside the hangar doors.

"Did no one inform them that General Organa's daughter was supposed to be leaving with them?" O-Djo barked, his dark skin flushing angrily.

The technician scoffed, shrugged, and walked off to tend to a nearby astromech droid. The lieutenant turned to Ami. "I'm sorry, young miss, but you'll have to go back to Forward Command. It's not safe for you here."

Ami was beginning to nod and reply when she saw an orange flashing in the sky outside the hangar doors. "The transport!" she shouted, jerking her hand from the lieutenant's grip and racing outside. Several screaming TIE fighters twisted menacingly through the air as they concentrated all their fire on the nearly-defenseless transport ship. Ami howled as the ship burst into flaming pieces, jettisoning in different directions and hurling to the ground. X-Wings roared around her, trying to draw the mass of incoming First Order pilots into a skirmish further away from the base.

Her feet suddenly left the ground as two officers picked her up and began carrying her back to Forward Command, Lieutenant O-Djo following swiftly on their heels. "Put me down!" Ami cried, but only lightly squirmed about - she knew better than to pick a fight with members of the Resistance army. "What about the other kids? We have to help them! They could still be alive! Ilyaa was on that ship! Please!"

"No one could have survived that explosion, young miss." Lieutenant O-Djo replied as they entered the command center. "You should count your lucky stars they left without you, or _you_ would be dead as well."

The officers set Ami gently on the ground and ran back to their stations with a swift salute to General Organa. "Ami!" Leia cried as her daughter rushed into her outstretched arms. "Thank the Force you're safe. I'm so sorry - I didn't understand your fear."

Ami nodded and drew back from her cradled position, pulling a long ribbon out of her blonde braids. She tied one end of the ribbon to her mother's wrist and wrapped the opposite end around her hand. "Just in case," she said as she plopped onto the floor and scooted under the command table, releasing enough of the ribbon to create slack for Leia to move her hands freely. Once under the table, Ami laid down and closed her eyes. Fear still hovered over her like a dark cloud, but her young mind was exhausted from its emotional turmoil; finally, still clinging to the edge of the ribbon, she drifted off into the welcome oblivion of sleep.

 **Part Two**

 _Eyes open, seeing nothing._

 _Ears listening, hearing the pitter-patter of rain._

 _Skin feeling the cold drops of water... solid ground beneath her body..._

 _She stands. On what, she does not know._

 _She is so alone. She opens her mouth to speak, but the sounds will not leave her throat. They are afraid._

 _So, she turns. She turns around to see an endless wall of windows, stretching farther than her eyes can see from left to right and ground to sky. Lights shining through the windows, inviting her inside._

 _She hears something. There are voices beside her - the shadow children have found her, even here. They hold her hand in theirs, their words unintelligible but their intentions pure._

 _The windows beckon them all._

 _So, they walk._

 _They walk for years, the shadow children growing into a shadow man and a shadow woman, while she remains a little girl. When they finally reach the edge of the windows, they look in._

 _Suddenly, a corridor, never-ending, eternal. Each door looks the same, except for one. No door has a handle, except for one. The same door. She needs to open it._

 _Where are the shadow children?_

 _She is in front of the door, her hand resting on the doorknob. Her hand, black and wispy as shadow. She turns the doorknob to view what lies inside..._

Somewhere, at the edge of her consciousness, Ami honed in on a familiar voice screaming something unintelligible. She tried opening her eyes, but it felt like there was a pound of bricks on her eyelids that prevented them from opening more than a tiny slit. The screaming became louder and more intelligible as her brain continued its attempt to translate the garbled words into something more understandable, and suddenly she shot awake, banging her head into the table above her. She felt no pain, just an overwhelming terror at the words that were finally sinking into her brain: the fortress was being overrun.

A wave of sounds slammed into her ears, overloading her sensory processes. Alarms blared, people shouted, torpedoes screamed, explosions boomed. Ami pulled herself out from under the table and stood to face a scene of destruction: huge cracks had appeared in the walls, dust and chunks of stone were falling from the ceiling, and from the myriad officers working in the command center previously, only a handful remained. The room shook, causing her to teeter and flail her arms for something steady to lean against. It wasn't until the ground had stabilized that she realized the ribbon she held was no longer attached to her mother's wrist.

"Mom!" Ami yelled, searching the room frantically for any sign of her mother's characteristic brown braids. The air was filled with dust and weirdly-flashing lights from damaged displays, creating a fog-like atmosphere that only allowed her to see forms and shapes.

"Amidala!" Leia's voice sounded from somewhere near the entrance.

"Mom!" Ami screamed, trying to run over the rubble and around the broken tactical stations. Her foot caught on something, making her fall flat on her stomach. Glancing back at what she'd tripped over, she saw a limp, bloody hand sticking out from under a large slab of stone. A chill ran down her spine and a scream caught in her throat, her arms and legs weak from the shock. Suddenly she was being heaved unsteadily to her feet, her mother's voice yelling frantically in her ear.

"Amidala, we have to get out of here!" Leia cried, dragging the petrified Ami into the hallway. "I can't carry you the entire way out of here, princess! Princess!"

Ami, finally regaining control of her limbs, turned and began running toward the hangar like a bat out of hell. She hurtled through the halls, flying so fast she had no choice but to slam into the opposite wall when turning the corners. Her lungs were on fire from the dust in the air, and all the running and screaming she had done that day was exacerbating her plight, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. Rounding a corner toward the hangar entrance, Ami was forced to stop, her breath coming in painful, jagged gasps that tore through her throat and lungs, ending in a series of explosive coughs that left her on her hands and knees. She felt a pounding on her back as her mother attempted to help shake up whatever mucus and dust particles had lodged in her lungs.

"Come on, baby girl," Leia murmured into Ami's ear, "Just a few more steps to get into the ship and we can stop and cough all we like." Reaching her arms around her daughter's chest, she hoisted Ami to her feet and began supporting her toward the only ship left in the hangar: their old, two-seater Cloudjumper. Ami saw what she thought were the bodies of fighter pilots laying on the ground just outside the hangar, but her vision was blurred from the strain of coughing.

An astromech unit nearby the Cloudjumper began rapid-fire bleeping at them, and even though Ami had never learned to speak droid, she could tell it was frightened. Outside the hangar she caught glimpses of starfighters dancing in the sky, weaving terrifying - yet beautiful - patterns with their blue and orange blaster fire.

"You first!" Leia called, shoving Ami up the narrow ramp toward the ship. Just as Ami was beginning to duck into it, a flaming TIE fighter shot into the hangar and crashed into the ground a few feet behind Leia, causing the Cloudjumper and everything in the near vicinity to go flying into the opposite wall. The impact threw Leia face-first into the underside of the Cloudjumper, knocking her unconscious; Ami was flung into the wall just above the ship and fell behind it, mind once again releasing itself to welcome oblivion.


	2. Chapter 2

Slowly, Ami's senses began tuning back in to their surroundings. Her ears - the first to come back - picked up the sounds of crackling fire and creaking metal. Her nose caught whiffs of something burning, but she couldn't tell what it was. She felt cold, hard stone under her body and something heavy pressing on one of her legs. A foul, acidic taste filled her mouth, which heralded the return of everything she'd eaten that day; once she recovered from being awoken so violently, she began attempting to pull herself up and take stock of her surroundings.

Grabbing hold of the edge of the tipped Cloudjumper's ramp, she simultaneously lifted her torso off the ground and kicked at the large piece of metal pinning her left leg down. When her leg was finally free, she balanced herself on the wall and hopped around the ship, grimacing at the pain suddenly shooting into her leg as it regained blood flow. The first thing her eyes caught sight of was the once-beautiful Ithorian jungle that waited a short distance outside the hangar doors, its sacred, verdant majesty now reduced to a smoldering shell of its former glory. The large patch of grassland between the hangar and the jungle was littered with plant debris, pieces of ships, and bodies. Lots of bodies.

Ami turned to the inside of the hangar, praying that there would be no more dead people inside. On the opposite side of the hangar, where the doors into the main fortress were located, rose a huge cloud of black smoke that was beginning to float in her direction. She saw the crashed TIE fighter that had knocked their ship into the wall, no longer on fire but still menacing to behold. The rest of the hangar was empty except for various cargo containers, tool boxes, and pieces of metal that had been flung inside from damaged ships.

With a jolt, she realized she hadn't seen her mother yet. She circled the Cloudjumper, limping as fast as possible with her injured leg, but still found no sign of her. An image of her mother crushed under the hull of the TIE fighter hovered in Ami's mind, but she pushed it away. The enemy ship had crashed too far away to have hit either of them, so her mother must have been flung along with the Cloudjumper.

"Mom?" Ami yelled, voice quavering. "Mom, are you here?"

Her voice received no answer, so she closed her eyes and tried to reach out with her mind. _Mom! Mom!_ she cried, feeling the Force propel her thoughts further than she could imagine. She waited, listening quietly for an answer, opening her mind to her surroundings.

Nothing.

Fear was creating a huge knot in her stomach, but she pushed it down, desperate to connect with someone - anyone - to bring her reassurance that she wasn't the only living, sentient being left after that battle. Breathing deeply, Ami once again reached out, but this time searching for anything that remotely felt like a person. After a short time of silent meditation, she began to feel the faint impression of an infantile mind poke at her from somewhere outside the hangar. Slowly, she made her way out, averting her eyes from the burned and blood-spattered corpses scattered amidst the debris.

"Hello?" Ami called, pausing to listen for an answer. "Is someone out here? Answer, so I can help you."

She sensed fear, building stronger with each passing second, emanating from a large piece of gray metal to her right. It was too big to be from a starfighter, but too small to be off a cargo ship. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized it must be the transport ship the children and politicians left in, and the thought of one of them being alive spurred her feet onward. Pushing through the pain that was still throbbing through her leg, she circled the metal chunk, looking for an opening, a hole in the ground, _something_ that would allow her access to the being trapped inside. The more she circled, the more she realized there was no opening at all. What could she do to help the young one escape?

"You could use the Force to lift it up," she said, startling herself with how loud her words sounded amid the silence of the dead. "Don't think, feel. Uncle Luke taught you how to do this ages ago. Let's go."

Once again, Ami closed her eyes, drinking in the silence of the jungle - _filled with dead people_ \- focusing her mind on the current of the Force, surrounding her - _and the dead people_ \- drawing it around the still-steaming chunk of gray metal - _that probably contained dead people_ -

"STOP!" Ami screamed, slapping herself on the forehead to try and drown out the thoughts of death invading her mind. Her fearfulness was what had kept her from training with her uncle and brother, and it was what kept her from truly bonding with her mother. No one could understand the anxiety, foremost of her feelings, that nagged at her mind from waking to sleep; it even invaded her dreams, causing incessant nightmares. Between the ages of 5 and 6 years old, she had a recurring dream about a tall, faceless man in black robes who killed everyone in her family except her: as soon as the faceless man would come close enough for him to kill her, she would fall into a dark abyss, alone but for the shadow children who kept her company in all her nightmares.

Her parents had taken her to see many wisemen, shamans, psychics - you name it, Ami had sat in their chair or waded in their pools. Even her uncle had attempted to interpret her dreams, but everyone's answers were still the same vague, unsatisfying explanations: she was afraid of death, she felt lonely, her unconscious mind was trying to tell her to let go of something she held dear, yada yada yada. After a while, everyone gave up; it wasn't until a blind Jedi named Oryx Mourner declared her a Seer that they began to realize the implications of her dreams and premonitions. She hadn't envisioned the Faceless Man in almost six years, yet she could still feel his pull on her family, like a dark undercurrent brushing the tips of their toes.

But today… Today, despite what seemed to be the culmination of everything she'd ever feared and predicted, was the day she would overcome her anxiety. She didn't know how much time had passed since the First Order attacked, but it had been long enough to leave alive only her and the entombed child she was attempting to rescue. Ami moved around the piece of ship until she felt the last rays of the afternoon sun on her back; she could always rely on the sun and moon to help her connect to the Force when nothing else could. Closing her eyes once again, she gently flipped her palms up to face the sky and began to focus on the energy all around her, binding her and the earth and the heavens together as one; she was the earth, pushing the invasive metal bits up toward the heavens. She was the heavens, pulling the ships toward herself, back where they belonged.

Ami opened her eyes to a surreal sight: every piece of ship - TIE fighter and X-Wing alike - was floating in the air two feet above the ground. Twitching her fingers, they all flew several yards into the burnt maw of the jungle where they were destined to be devoured by rot and decay.

Her knees buckled, landing Ami face-down in the mud. She felt physically and mentally exhausted, like the only kind of sleep that would re-energize her was a ten-year coma. Luckily, the mud was wet enough to get sucked into her windpipe when she tried to inhale, which forced her to cough and push herself to her feet once again. Directly in front of her, not more than a foot away, lay a small, purple Twi'lek child, shivering and wild-eyed and covered in dirt.

"Ilyaa!" Ami screamed, scooping the little girl up into her arms. Her skin was like ice to the touch. "Can you talk? Are you ok? Tell me what hurts." She scanned the ground for any blankets or articles of clothing to wrap the nearly frozen toddler in, but could see none that weren't already taken; her range of vision was beginning to be severely limited by the fading light, and she realized with horror that they had no food, no safe shelter, no water, and no way to defend themselves from whatever predators lurked in the night.

Suddenly, a robed figure emerged from the woods several yards away. Ami couldn't make out their face, or even what race they were, due to the growing darkness. Panic set in and Ami hobbled as fast as she could toward the hangar opening, praying that whoever she was running from couldn't see her. She heard rapid, pounding footsteps growing louder behind her, and a scream finally forced its way out just as the stranger caught up to the two injured children.

"Shhh, it's okay!" a kind, gentle voice reassured. "I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help you."

Ami recognized that voice!

"Uncle Luke!" she screamed, spinning around to face the Jedi. His ice-blue eyes lit up when he realized who she was, his scarred face melting into an expression of relief.

"Ami!" Luke breathed, wrapping both children into a warm embrace, careful not to smother the smaller of the two. "You're still alive, thank the Force. Admiral Statura told me you were dead! Your parents and brother are sick with grief." A long, low rumble in the jungle behind them warned of imminent danger. "We have to get out of here as quickly as possible - is there anyone else alive here?"

Ami, speechless in her relief, shook her head.

"Then quickly come with me. Artoo has the ship waiting in a clearing not far from here - we have to get both of you out before anyone comes back to pick over these remains." Luke gently took the still-shivering Ilyaa from Ami's arms, nestled her between the folds of his over-tunic, and turned and ran back to where he'd emerged mere seconds beforehand. Ami, exhausted as she was, managed to keep up with him out of sheer desperation. The day was not yet over, and she still felt the gnaw of anxiety in her gut that told her there was more agony to come.

The sun continued to set, and the jungle undergrowth grew more and more dangerous the further in they went. While trying to leap over a tall tree root, she smacked her head into a low-hanging branch and fell, dizzy and disoriented, between the roots of the tree. At first, she couldn't move: her mind felt detached from her body, and her vision spun. When the world finally stabilized, she realized Ilyaa was laying on her abdomen, both of them cradled in her uncle's arms as he ascended the ramp to his ship.

"What's happening?" she muttered groggily, "Why are you carrying me?" She tried to lift her head to look around, and felt pain like someone had embedded a knife through her eye, straight to the back of her brain. She heard a groan escape her lips and dropped her head back down, hanging over her uncle's arm. Ilyaa began crying, which was the first noise Ami had heard her make since before the attack.

"Amidala!" Luke said, panic evident in his tone, "You _must_ stay conscious. Don't give in to the desire to fall asleep. As soon as we are up in the air, I will take you somewhere to find medical treatment, but for now I need you to stay with me. Do you understand?"

Ami, vision fading in and out, let out a high-pitched whine that was supposed to communicate: yes, but I don't want to.

"I know, princess, I know you are so tired. You've been very brave today, but I need you to keep being brave until I can get you some help."

Luke laid the two children on what felt like a cushioned bench, and Ami watched hazily as his back disappeared into a different compartment. She picked up the sound of distant astromech bleeps, and felt the rumble of the ship's engine as they rose into space, leaving all the death and destruction behind them. Ilyaa was laying on top of her, arms locked around her neck, still shivering from the cold. With great effort, Ami grasped the top of her heavy green skirt and started inching it up from her ankles; when she had a good amount of ruffles gathered, she pulled them up over Ilyaa's body, exposing her own stockinged legs to the cold of space. She draped her arms over her companion's tiny frame just in case the ship ride became bumpy, and rasped out whatever songs came into her head.

Slowly, Ilyaa fell asleep, but Ami kept singing in an effort to keep herself awake. It seemed like hours had passed since they'd left Ithor, and it was becoming harder and harder for her to keep her eyes open. _You've done enough_ , her brain said, _I think it's okay if you sleep now. Just for a little bit. No one will notice._ This was turning into the most difficult and torturous part of her day: exhausted, eyes and mouth dry, head throbbing with pain, and a very fuzzy recollection of the events of the past hour all contributed to a feeling of pure misery.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. "Uncle?" she rasped, barely above a whisper. If only she had some water! "Uncle?" she tried again, this time marginally louder, and it seemed to work; she listened as her uncle's footsteps grew closer, until he was finally kneeling down next to her.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he queried, brushing the hair out of her face with his mechanical hand. She saw his eyes quickly flit down to her bared legs. "Are you cold? I'll get you a blanket."

Ami nodded her head and tried to speak, but her throat was so dry at this point her efforts were in vain. All that managed to escape her lips was a low, growl-like sound, so she brought one of her fingers up to weakly point at her mouth.

"Ah, I understand." Luke said, "I'm so sorry I haven't come to check on you in a while. I'll go get you a blanket and some water, and I'll be right back. Okay?"

Ami once again nodded, her head feeling increasingly heavy with each effort to move. Her uncle left a parting kiss on her forehead and walked a few steps toward the back of the ship. Bending down, he lifted a floor panel and rummaged underneath for a few moments before straightening and turning back, holding a dark blue blanket and what looked to be a canteen filled with clear liquid. She took the canteen as Luke spread the blanket over her and Ilyaa, and spilled water all over herself. Her uncle gently pulled the canteen from her grasp and slipped his arm under her shoulders, lifted her torso up to a sitting position, and helped her drink the water.

"Feel better?" he asked as he lowered Ami back to the cushions.

"Yes," she whispered, "Better. Wha-… What's happening?"

"I received a communication from Admiral Statura. He wanted me to let you know that your mother is fine." Luke paused, struggling with how to say what had to come next. "Everyone believes you're dead, Ami. Apparently, when they pulled your mother away from the wreckage of the planet, she was the only life sign that appeared on their sensors. That's why they didn't rescue you or your small friend…?"

"Ilyaa," Ami replied, "Y-… You told them… we're alive?"

Luke shook his head. "It's complicated, sweetheart. Admiral Statura has reason to believe that the attack on the base was to kidnap you. There was a similar attack on the planet where Ben goes to school, but fortunately for us he was traveling with your dad. They're both safe, but many other people have died. The Admiral thinks it best that no one knows about you, not yet, not until they figure out if it's safe for you to come back home."

Ami nodded, eyes drooping. "I'm glad… They're safe…" she breathed, no longer able to keep herself awake.


	3. Chapter 3

_Eyes open, seeing nothing._

 _Ears listening, hearing the pitter-patter of rain._

 _Skin feeling the cold drops of water... solid ground beneath her body..._

 _She stands. On what, she does not know._

 _She is so alone. She opens her mouth to speak, but the sounds will not leave her throat. They are afraid._

 _So, she turns. She turns around to see an endless wall of windows, stretching farther than her eyes can see from left to right and ground to sky. Lights shining through the windows, inviting her inside._

 _She hears something. There are voices beside her - the shadow children have found her, even here. They hold her hands in theirs, speaking words of comfort and assurance, offering her hope._

 _The windows beckon them all._

 _So, they walk._

 _They walk for years, the shadow children growing into a shadow man and a shadow woman, while she remains a teenage girl. When they finally reach the edge of the windows, they look in._

 _Suddenly, a corridor, never-ending, eternal. Each door looks the same, except for one. No door has a handle, except for one. The same door. She needs to open it._

 _Where are the shadow children?_

 _She is in front of the door, her hand resting on the doorknob. Her hand, black and wispy as shadow. She turns the doorknob and opens the door. The Faceless Man is there, beckoning to her. His companion, calling her name…_

"Mimi!"

Ami jolted awake, heart racing, lungs gasping for air. She flung her arms out, groping for something - anything - to grab hold of, something to ground her in reality. Sitting up, she began to realize where she was: the grass beneath her and the blue leaves above told her she was still in the Dorulian sacred forest, Yvwatzë, which means "Tears of God" when translated into Basic.

"Why are we still here?" she croaked, pulling herself to a standing position with the aid of a young tree.

"Well, we've only been here a few minutes," a small, sassy voice pouted behind her, "And you decided to drop into one of your trances, as usual."

Ami turned to look at her young companion. Five years later, Ilyaa was still not much bigger than she had been when they first met. Her dark purple lekku hung down her back, carefully bound together with treated strips of nerf-hide; if they kept growing, they would soon be longer than she was tall.

"Why do you tie your lekku together every time we come here?" Ami asked, mildly amused.

"Because," Ilyaa replied, stepping closer, "They're Force-sensitive, and tying them together helps me feel safer. Sometimes I feel like you're going to rip them off my head, especially when you do that thing with the fainting and eye-rolling."

Ami chuckled. She had never seen Ilyaa's lekku so much as twitch independently, and was convinced that they had been damaged in the wreck of the transport ship on Ithor - but what did she know about Twi'lek anatomy? They were definitely growing, it was just that the color had slowly changed over the years: while the rest of her body remained a light lavender color, her lekku had darkened to a blotchy, almost black shade of purple. But, they caused her no trouble or pain, so they had both chalked it up to a strange amalgamation of genetics.

Ami scanned the surrounding trees for any flashes of gold and red which would signal the approach of Adherents; seeing none, she motioned Ilyaa further into the woods and followed stealthily. No one knew exactly what happened when you were caught in Yvwatzë, but if the way the Adherents treated the local fauna was any indication, you definitely weren't going to get a simple slap on the wrist.

"Be on the lookout for stones," Ami called to Ilyaa, who had run up ahead to chase a rodent, "We're going to practice splintering them today."

The patter of their feet followed them ever deeper into the forest, sounds muffled by the moss growing underfoot and the dense leaves on the trees. About a mile in, Ami finally caught the sound of the faint babbling of a stream, which told her they were only a few yards away from the entrance to their destination. Jogging forward a few more steps, both girls stopped abruptly at the edge of a drop-off bordering a narrow crack in the landscape that spanned about a mile from east to west. Ami gently dropped the ten feet onto its grassy bottom, then turned to catch Ilyaa. The floor of the crack, created aeons ago by primitive strip miners, sloped gently downward into the earth, the walls of dirt rising slowly above their heads until only a narrow strip of sky was visible; still they walked on, a small brook bubbling alongside them, winding its way toward the bottom of the ravine where it was supposed that a large underground lake awaited.

Nearly a mile down the gully, the walls abruptly separated into a crater. The blue forest could be seen bordering the top, growing so close to the edge that the white roots of the trees protruded from the dirt walls. The brook that had accompanied them widened into a river and continued wending its way through the crater, disappearing somewhere along the opposite wall.

The girls halted their journey at a small scarecrow that looked as if it had seen brighter days. There was no garden nearby for it to protect, and thousands of tiny cuts could be seen all over its body where small, sharp projectiles had been flung into it during their daily practice sessions. Both Ami and Ilyaa reached into sacks at their sides and pulled out the roughly two dozen stones they'd collected on their way, stacked them into a pile at the foot of the scarecrow, and retreated about five yards back.

"Now," Ami began, summoning a stone so quickly it reddened her palm, "Go ahead. Get yourself a stone."

Ilyaa squared her shoulders. She lifted one bracelet-bedecked arm and held it out, palm up, toward the pile of stones.

"Remember the breathing, and remember how to feel for the stones." Ami reminded her.

"I know how to summon a stone, okay?" Ilyaa impudently responded. Ami knew that her constant reminders, mantras, and life lessons were getting to her young companion, but that didn't stop her from expressing them.

"Keep giving me lip and I'll start reciting my Inspiration Book." Ami quipped. "'Success will always, through necessity, be precluded by failure.' 'There is no Dark Side, there is no Light Side; there is only the Force and the intentions of the heart.' 'Believe that y-'"

"Okay, I get it!" Ilyaa interrupted.

At the foot of the scarecrow, Ami could see one of the stones starting to wiggle and rise cautiously into the air, as if it was afraid of falling back down to the earth again. Slowly, ever so slowly, the stone traveled closer until it finally came to rest on Ilyaa's outstretched palm.

"All right!" Ami praised, playfully punching Ilyaa in the arm, "Good job with your aim. Next time, though, I want to see it happen faster."

Ami sat cross-legged on the ground and motioned Ilyaa to the same position. They faced each other, knees touching, and cupped the stones in their hands. "We are one with the Force," they chanted, "We are all people. We are the sky, we are the seas. We are the earth, we are the trees. We keep the peace, yet stand to fight. We love the day, embrace the night. We are all people. We are one with the Force."

Eyes closed, Ami hovered her stone in the air above her head, willing it to crack and splinter, watching the molecules separate in her mind until there was no longer a stone, just thin, deadly shards that were sharper than knives. Ami stood, stone shards moving from over her head to the palm of her hand, and flicked her fingers in the direction of the scarecrow. The rock pieces seemed invisible as they flew infinitely fast from her palm into the scarecrow's flannel face. A death-dealing blow if ever there was one.

Hearing Ilyaa quietly grunting below her, Ami crouched back down to eye-level; her young friend had managed to crack a very small stone just last week, but hadn't yet been able to fully splinter one.

Ami gazed at the tiny, purple fingers as they trembled and twitched, trying desperately to coerce the stone into doing their master's bidding. Ilyaa's nails were painted with a heat-sensitive solution that changed color based on her body temperature - called Liquemo - and they were currently a vibrant fuchsia, meaning she was nearing rage-level frustration. Often they turned black when she slept, indicating fear and anxiety. Ami didn't blame her, as she also had torturous nightmares that had become more centered around the raze of Ithor as the years had passed.

After their timely rescue, Luke Skywalker had taken the two survivors to temporarily live with an old friend on an Outer Rim planet called Dorullë. Tazer, whom Luke had known as a young boy on Tatooine, owned and operated a high-class cantina in a wealthy sector of Labellë, Dorullë's capital city. Still in shock and only semi-conscious, mere hours after the attack on Ithor, Ilyaa and Ami found themselves in the care of a complete stranger. Tazer treated them kindly, fed and clothed them, and protected them from the world outside his cantina, but the elderly Toydarian was no replacement for the families they'd lost.

As the months went on, Ilyaa began losing the ability to recall the names and faces of the people in her family, which prompted Tazer to try and find some way - mental exercise, meditation, memory-boosting drugs - for her to keep what little she had left of her loved ones. They began meditating every morning, all three of them together, and as soon as Ilyaa could write she began journaling every memory she still had, along with a list of names and dates of people and events she could still remember. The unfortunate side-effect of constantly trying to enhance her memory was that it came back to haunt her when she slept. Was it really worth it?

"WHY!"

Ilyaa's cry of frustration jolted Ami back to reality. The stone Ilyaa had been trying to fracture went flying through the air, still in one piece, and smacked the scarecrow square in the chest. Ami watched it tumbled to the ground and come to a stand-still next to a small, golden wildflower.

"Why what?" Ami asked, standing.

"Why does this have to be so HARD!" Ilyaa yelled, slamming a fist into the ground.

"Well," Ami began, "How old are you?"

No answer.

"You're nine, that's how old you are. When I was your age, not even in my wildest _dreams_ could I take something so solid and permanent as a rock and break it into thousands of tiny pieces. I couldn't even summon a rock." Ami paused, jogging over to pluck the wildflower. Its stem had several small, sharp thorns that bit into her fingers as she attempted to pull it from the ground, so she left it.

"You know," she continued, waving Ilyaa over, "I was kinda like this flower right here. When I saw the flower from where we were sitting, it looked so pretty, like a nice, soft flower whose only life wish would be to sit in a glass on my night table. But once I grabbed hold of it and tried to pull it out of the ground, I noticed all these thorns that were poking into my skin, and the flower suddenly had a different purpose and personality than I'd originally credited it with."

Ami paused again, watching as Ilyaa bent down to inspect the flower.

"I don't get it." Ilyaa finally said after several seconds of silent thought.

Ami shrugged. "I'm not the best at making metaphors or teaching children, so that makes sense. But I guess what I'm trying to say is that I used to be just a pretty little thing that followed in the wake of my parents' reputation. I was satisfied to just sit back and live my life comfortably, be some kind of career politician or heiress, and not worry about using the Force too much - after all, we already had two Jedi in the family, and I wasn't one to do risky things. So nobody, not even myself, noticed that I had thorns. And then came Ithor, and suddenly someone was pulling me up by the roots. So I used my thorns. And you're the same way, girlie. Get it now?"

Ilyaa, still looking slightly perplexed, nodded. "I guess, maybe. The Force is my thorns and I have to sharpen them?"

Ami sighed. That wasn't what she'd meant at all, but it wasn't worth explaining any more. She wasn't a damn teacher. "Yeah, sure. You have to sharpen your skills. So go get another stone."

"You mean I can just grab one?"

"You know what I mean, Little Miss Mouth."


	4. Chapter 4

When every stone from their collection had been splintered and flung into the scarecrow - mainly by Ami, although Ilyaa had managed to crack a small one again - the daylight was beginning to broaden. Dorullë's sun had already centered itself above the crater, signaling the approach of mid-day.

Dorullë, unique from every other planet in its solar system, had an almost zero degree axial tilt and a perfectly circular orbit, which meant that - except during solar flares - the northern and southern hemispheres of the planet tended to maintain a mild, spring-like climate year-round; the equator of the planet was mostly surrounded by semi-arid deserts and mountains that housed the native Bantha population. The sun always rose and set at the same times, giving the inhabitants a measure of security they would not normally have on other, less-predictable planets.

Set in their routine and dedicated to their caring host, the two girls set off toward Labellë at a brisk pace, making sure to avoid being seen exiting the woods when they reached the outskirts of the city.

A five-story-tall wall surrounded the city of Labellë, measuring 423 miles wide and 258 miles long, making it the planet's longest and most dangerous fence. The wall itself was twelve yards thick, its foundation sunk deep into the earth, and the poorest of the city inhabitants resided within its windowless corridors. The sacred forest of Yvwatzë followed its western wall, extending past both the southern- and northern-most corners of the barricade to form a silver and blue shield, protection from any earthbound enemies that dared approach the City of Merchants. In the event of an attack on the city, the wall was built to be easily electrified, produced a forcefield to cover the city, and the top walkways were lined with auto turrets big enough to take down Star Destroyers.

Except for the business owners and resident merchants, the city's population was highly transient - even the poorest among them stayed less than a year, as there were always ships willing to take on workers in trade for transport across the galaxy. Despite the busy appeal of Labellë and the wondrous natural beauty of the rest of Dorullë, they were so close to the edge of the Unknown Regions that most people were too frightened to stay permanently; in the event of an attack or invasion from deep space, Dorullë was one of the first defenses. And yet, neither the Empire nor, more recently, the First Order had deigned it important to establish a permanent military presence anywhere near the planet.

As the girls approached Mile Marker 137 of the Western Wall, they noticed several military-grade starfighters swoop down from the northeast.

"X-Wings." Ami stated. "Never seen any set down here before."

"Do you think it's the Resistance?" Ilyaa asked, her voice suddenly an octave higher, "Do you think they've finally come for us?"

Ami had been thinking the same thing, _wishing_ it were true. Her gut told her otherwise.

"Nah… More'n likely they were stolen, or they're patch models made from a bunch of different fighter parts. I wouldn't get my hopes up too high."

Ilyaa's shoulders sagged and her pace slowed until finally she stood, head hung down onto her chest, several yards away from their entrance. Ami jogged back to her, a familiar knot of dread beginning to form in her stomach.

"Hey," she said gently, kneeling down to Ilyaa's eye level. "Listen, girlie. Life hasn't been a picnic for us. I want to go home, too, but we've still got to wait. If it was safe for us to go back, someone would've come for us. They're waiting. We're just too precious to risk, okay?"

Ilyaa jerked her head once, indicating comprehension, and silently wiped the tears from her face. "I'm just so tired of waiting!" she hissed, squaring her shoulders. After a few deep breaths, the moment passed.

"Let's get back to the cantina," she said, striding toward Door 137. "Tazer's has the best booze and gossip in the city, so they're bound to show up sooner or later."

Before she could stop it, a small chuckle escaped Ami's lips. "Who's going to show up? And who told you to say _booze_ , child? You're nine!"

Ilyaa threw an angry glare over her shoulder as she knocked on the door. "The X-Wing pilots, obviously. And I say booze because I want to."

The door swung open, revealing a dimly-lit access tunnel through the heart of the wall. The floor was made of well-packed dirt, the walls curving up to meet a ceiling that was no more than seven feet tall. The access tunnel was originally made for repair droids to bolster the foundation in the event of an attack, but had become a frequent haunt for Ami and Ilyaa when they wanted to sneak out of the city and bypass security.

Behind the open door, two glowing blue eyes stared out at them. "Password," the droid demanded, moving its entire body to block the entrance.

"The First Order sucks." Ilyaa chirped, staring up at the gangly, red repair droid. Six of its ten arms were pressed flat against the walls of the tunnel to further barricade the entrance.

With a small flicker of its eyes, the droid turned aside from the path and let the two girls in. "Don't touch my tools," it demanded, and turned back to work on patching a hole in the tunnel wall.

"Don't put your tools in my way," Ilyaa fired back, but the droid continued to work.

Ami pulled a small glow rod out of a pocket on her black bomber-vest and held it out in front of them. The droid's tools cast long shadows down the hall, their appearance quite menacing in the low light. Her feeling of dread was getting stronger.

"Seriously, though," Ami said, carefully stepping forward, "Don't touch his tools."

"How dare you assume my gender," the droll voice piped, "I'm a female."

Ami rolled her eyes. "Fine then, don't touch _her_ tools. Happy now?"

"I'm a droid. I feel no human emotion."

"Oh my goooods!" Ami breathed, speeding their movement up to a jog.

Ami and Ilyaa quickly reached the opposite end of the wall, opened the door, and peeked through into a dark alley. Several of the neighborhood's current beggars were lying on the ground asleep, but there was no other sign of movement or life. Cautiously, the girls stepped out of the door and into the city; already, the noise level had increased five-fold past what it was outside the walls.

"All right," Ami began, reaching into another pocket, this one on her cargo pants, "Get your transportation card and be prepared for the scans. You didn't bring anything back from the forest, did you?"

Ilyaa swept her arms out derisively, causing her pocketless white dress to ripple. "Yeah, I caught a tree frog and stuck it up my sleeve."

"Dang, child," Ami scoffed, "Who gave you this attitude? I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm the one to blame for the mouth, but I think I have a better attitude than that."

Ilyaa snorted, her yellow eyes sparkling with amusement, and the two of them walked out of the alleyway and across a deserted street. On the opposite side of the street, they took a set of stairs that led down into an underground Tube Transport Station. The station walls were covered in cold, gleaming white paint from floor to ceiling, creating the illusion of daytime even in the wee hours of the night.

At regular intervals, planted underneath intimidatingly dark tubes, there were small, opaque pods, each one big enough to hold two medium-sized beings. The girls approached a pod that was blinking the words "…TERRA SECTOR…75 STOPS…" and held their identification cards up against a scanner on the front of the vessel. The screen momentarily stopped flashing its destinations to show their names, ages, and races, and a tinny voice asked them to input their desired stop. As soon as Ami pressed the symbol for Rue Stiika/Ambian Stadium, a seam appeared and a door swung slowly open, allowing them to step inside.

Once inside, the door swung shut and two breathing apparatuses attached themselves to the girls' faces. The same tinny voice told them to remain calm, breathe deeply, and prepare for full body scans; all the while, the air that had slipped into the compartment during their entrance was being pulled out through the ventilation systems and replaced with a jelly-like substance that surrounded their bodies without touching them. An artificial gravity plate at their backs slowly increased, pulling them onto it until they were completely immobile.

Finally, with neither girl able to hear the computer's voice or see each other's faces, they felt a tug at the bottom of their feet which signified that the pod had been sucked up into the tube transportation system. Ami felt the beginnings of a massive headache, as was the norm when traveling the tube system, and was glad they were only traveling midway into the city and not to the East Wall - shooting through underground tubes at over 500 miles per hour, no matter how many precautions were put in place, messed with everyone's inner workings to different degrees. Most people preferred the Sky Cars if they weren't going far and had time on their hands.

After fifteen minutes of speeding under the city, the pod finally slowed to a stop. Air was once again ventilated into the chamber as the jelly siphoned out, and the artificial gravity plates adjusted back to the planet's normal psi. The computer voice wished them a good day and the door swung open, revealing a white underground Tube Station nearly identical to the one they left behind; the only difference was the amount of people that were now crammed into the tiny space.

Ami stepped out onto the platform and turned back to help Ilyaa, who could barely stand at this juncture, out of the pod. There were already dozens of people waiting in line for their turn, so Ami hoisted Ilyaa onto her back and aggressively pushed out of the crowd and up the stairs. Even though they'd only been underground for fifteen minutes, coming out into the open air felt like they'd climbed their way out of hell.

"Can you stand yet?" Ami asked over her shoulder, Ilyaa still clinging to her back. "It's really awkward trying to carry you like this when you're wearing a dress. Consider your modesty."

"Shut up." Ilyaa muttered, hopping down onto the ground. She seemed to wobble slightly as she took her first few steps.

"Did Tazer say anything about needing groceries or something before we left?" Ami said, trying to remember the events of the morning. The unfiltered sunlight was exacerbating her headache, which, combined with her growing anxiety, made it difficult to think straight.

"No, there was no note or anything," Ilyaa responded. "But the market is in the opposite direction anyway, and I don't feel like walking any more today."

"You said it, girl." Ami agreed.

The buildings in this sector were mainly businesses targeting the upper-class politicians who used Labellë as a clandestine meeting point. The security in the city was amazing, the First Order military force non-existent, and anonymity guaranteed for a reasonable price. There were shooting ranges, cafes, tailors & clothing shops, and even personal security offices that would loan you "deaf" mercenaries for protection. The newest and most popular business was a disguise shop that would temporarily change your features and give you falsified identification documents. It was an unspoken agreement among the residents of this sector that they "See nothing, hear nothing, know nothing." After all, who wanted to mess with such a hugely booming espionage economy?

Several minutes later, they rounded a busy street corner where they were confronted by a huge sign that read " _Tazer's_ " in large, swooping blue letters. The sign hung from the fourth to third stories of the building so it was easily seen by low-flying Sky Cars, and there was a smaller sign hanging at the first story, just atop a set of artisan-crafted hydraulic doors.

Ami approached the doors and pressed her hand up against a scan pad, which unlocked them. She pressed a small green button next to the scan pad and the doors disappeared into their frame, revealing a grande entry hall with polished, mahogany floors and shining, gilded walls. On the opposite side of the entry hall was an ancient, gold-plated elevator that was activated by turning a crank inside; despite the fact that Tazer had the crank upgraded to have a hydraulic component so anyone could operate it, the patrons still expected someone to ferry them to and from the saloon level. During the cantina's normal hours, they hired a young Aqualish man to operate the elevator; he also doubled as a member of their personal security team.

The two girls hopped into the elevator and Ilyaa ferried them up to the top floor, which functioned as their living quarters. This level of the building had a different layout than the rest: the east wall, which faced out into the street, was comprised solely of windows; there were four doors on the north wall that led to Tazer's bedroom, Ilyaa and Ami's bedroom, a bathing room, and a room that Tazer kept locked at all times; the rest of this floor was open, but sectioned off by half-walls and carpets to designate eating, lounging, and cooking areas. It was a very comfortable place to live.

"Uncle Taze?" Ami called, crossing the living room to knock on his bedroom door. "You awake? It's well past noon."

A low, raspy grumbling sound could be heard from behind the door, followed by a loud thump that indicated something large had fallen to the ground. Ami knocked again and, when she received no answer, pushed the sliding door open. Tazer's hammock swayed in the middle of the room, empty, and multiple alcohol bottles lay upended beneath it. Toward the back of the room, the husky Toydarian could be seen struggling to get off the floor. It was obvious he'd fallen asleep at his work bench, which was a rather unusual occurrence considering how often he drank and tried to do paperwork at the same time.

"Unc, I told you I'd do that for you," Ami sighed, quickly jogging over to help her guardian off the floor. "You have two willing workers living here that you support and protect for basically nothing. You have to start letting us help you!"

"Aye, child," he responded, using his wings to propel himself into the air, "I promise I will, one day. These are such difficult matters for your young minds to comprehend."

"That's just an excuse," Ami shot back, following him out of the room, "You just don't think we can do it as well as you can."

The Toydarian twirled around, snout coming within inches of Ami's face. "Well, am I wrong? Can you keep my books as well as I can?"

Ami huffed. "Well excuse me! If you don't teach us, we won't _ever_ be as good as you are! So no, of course we can't do it like you can - you've been at this for decades!"

Tazer threw his hands into the air and flew into the kitchen. Ami followed, arguing, while Ilyaa slipped silently into the peace of their bedroom.

"You keep saying that you need to take on an apprentice. Why can't you take one of us? We've been here for five years! We know what goes on in this business, and I'm almost to the age of maturity, so I'll be able to legally work for you. And Ilyaa's a smart girl, she could do things like transcribing, copying records, filing, checking receipts, stuff like that!"

Ami paused while Tazer flitted around the kitchen, preparing himself a large breakfast. She grabbed several compacted energy packets from a cabinet and tossed them onto the dining table for him in an attempt to speed him up.

"Are you going to answer me?" she queried. Tazer remained silent several minutes longer while he fried three large eggs and a Bantha steak. "Fine. Keep falling asleep on your work bench and ruining your records with your drool. We'll just keep mooching off you and taking advantage of your kindness."

A long, low sigh escaped Tazer's snout as he brought his finished breakfast platter to the dining table. "A 'good morning' would have been nice to start with, instead of bullying me as soon as I wake up."

Ami immediately felt pangs of remorse. Her dread was growing, and she could feel it beginning to cloud her judgment. "Uncle, you are falling apart! Your drinking is getting out of hand, you never leave this building any more, even your regulars are beginning to notice how weak and exhausted you are. I'm _trying_ to help you. You can't keep doing it alone. You're getting old."

"Thank you for pointing that out," the Toydarian huffed through mouthfuls of food. "I didn't realize I was aging so rapidly."

Ami let out a derisive grunt. "Okay, I'm sorry if I hurt your elderly feelings. I'm sure they bruise easily." Again, immediate remorse. She really needed to learn to shut her mouth.

"Amidala Solo," Tazer gently said, "Do you believe I do not trust you? Or that I desire my business to fail after so many years of operation and the achievement of an impeccable reputation? I am not delusional, child: I know that my health and my sanity are rapidly decaying, but I would be sorely amiss if I were to think for one second that you and your sister were permanent members of my household."

Ami smirked. He had insisted on calling them sisters ever since they arrived here, while calling himself their uncle. He had also insisted on knowing their full names, despite the fact that her biological uncle, Luke Skywalker, demanded their identities be kept secret. It was Tazer's way of helping them keep their true identities and memories intact, and they were both grateful to him for that.

He continued. "The two of you are members of the transient population here on Dorullë. I don't care whether or not you believe you have conquered your denial, or how liberated you have deluded yourself into feeling now that you are sure you have been forgotten. I have known Jedi Master Skywalker since he was but a small child on Tatooine. Even then, he never reneged a promise."

Ami's eyes began to fill with tears, despite her efforts to the contrary. The more she tried to bottle up her feelings, the harder they hit when they eventually appeared.

"We've been here five years, Tazer," she whispered, turning her face away.

"Yes," her guardian replied, "And what of it? There are people who have been separated from their families for decades, for lifetimes, and still they never lose hope."

"Yeah, well they're just stupid and lying to themselves," she shot back, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Ah, you may believe that now, but when the day comes and you are being rescued by the family you believe has abandoned you, your tune will change. That day will come. Ilyaa Luun Rohena believes it to be, as should you." Tazer paused, finishing the last of his food. "Besides, I have already chosen an apprentice."

"What?!" Ilyaa hollered from the bedroom, zooming out to where the other two were sitting. "Who?! Who did you find?!"

Ami's jaw hung open, her chin jutted forward, demanding answers.

Tazer chuckled, the first genuine sound of amusement they'd heard from him in months. "A young Mirialan gentleman wandered in several nights ago seeking employment. He produced excellent job records, and even had a holo from his last supervisor recommending him as a loyal, hard-working young man with a nose for business. Of course, I spoke to the captain of the ship he came on, and received the same information. I offered him the job yesterday. He will begin this evening, and I have offered him living arrangements in the spare bedroom."

"What spare bedroom?" she managed to ask through her constricting throat, still shocked by her uncle's sudden revelation and desperately trying to push that familiar feeling of dread down beyond her consciousness.

"Why, the bedroom next to the windows, of course," Tazer rejoined, gesturing to the fourth door, the one he always kept locked. "It used to house an emergency stockpile of my most popular beverages, but I had him clean it out and hang a hammock for himself last night during cantina hours."

A light in Ami's brain suddenly switched on. "He's not here _now,_ is he?"

Tazer just chuckled and flew down the service stairs to begin setting up for opening hour.

"I'm going to check!" Ilyaa whispered.

"No, Ilyaa, come back!" Ami hissed as Ilyaa, in her stockinged feet, slid over to the fourth door and stuck an ear up to it. After a few seconds of intent listening, she violently waved Ami over.

"What are you doing!?" Ami mouthed as she approached the door, careful not to make any noise.

Ilyaa pointed at the door and whispered, "Someone's in there!"

Ami gently pressed her ear up against the door. At first she heard nothing over her rapidly-beating heart, but after a few seconds the unmistakable sound of someone punching in an unlock code vibrated through the panels of the metal door.

With one movement, both Ami and Ilyaa charged into their room and silently slid the door shut. Heart pounding, Ami gripped their door with the tips of her fingers and created a slit just wide enough for the two of them to see out, Ilyaa squatting between her legs.

A tall, yellow-skinned man clad in tight, brown breeches, a loose, white tunic, and a black vest sauntered out into the kitchen area, his long, braided brown hair falling softly down his back. His feet were clad in black utility boots that shined in the light from the windows.

Ami suddenly felt an uncontrollable urge to sneeze, and in her haste to try and bury it in one of the pillows on her bed, she tripped over Ilyaa and fell into a wooden night table, smashing it. Ilyaa squealed and stood, trying to salvage the situation, but lost her balance and tripped into their bed frame, which made a painful screeching noise.

Ami began to try and pick herself back up when she realized the door was open. She stared up, frozen on her pile of splintered wood, at the man standing in their doorway. His blue eyes flashed with twisted amusement as he surveyed the two girls sprawled on the floor, the geometric tattoos on his face creating the illusion that he was wearing a fancy mask. She hoped to high heaven that he couldn't hear how fast and shallow her breathing had become.

"Hello there," he rumbled. "You must be Nahala Dor."

He looked straight at Ami, eyes locking with hers. She didn't like him.

"Yeah, well, you got it wrong, buddy," she replied, shakily standing to her feet. "I'm Hero Chisum. And who would you be?"

"Riktorr Tolbey," he said, eyes sweeping the room and landing on Ilyaa, who was now perched on the top bunk of their bed, glaring at him. "You can call me Rik, if you want. I'm Tazer's new apprentice."

"Great." Ami said, picking up what was left of her night table. "Yeah, you're gonna need to get out now."

Once again, Riktorr's eyes flashed with that same look of twisted amusement. Ami hated it immediately. It was as if he knew something horrible and was immensely pleased with himself about it.

"Indeed," he responded, backing out of the room and pulling their door shut.

Ami listened to the sound of his boots clomping in the direction of the elevator, and when she heard the mechanism begin whirring she turned to Ilyaa, heart still racing.

"I'm getting a seriously dangerous vibe from this hooter," she said, "I think we need to play it cool around him, and no more trips to the forest for a while. Got it?"

Ilyaa nodded, still scowling. "I don't like the way he just _looked_ at us. Gave me the creeps."

"Yeah," Ami agreed, "Me too. But I'm hoping against all odds that our first impressions are wrong."

"You know they're not wrong." Ilyaa scoffed, hopping off the bunk and onto the floor.

"Yeah… That's what I'm afraid of."


	5. Chapter 5

**Part One**

"Nahala! Tazer! Come quickly!" Ami hollered as she charged into their living quarters. Her heart was pounding so fast it was making her dizzy, so she collapsed onto a settee in the living room, trying to calm herself down.

Rik was sitting at the dining table, working on the cantina's accounting books. Ilyaa came bounding out of the bedroom, her new, hooded green cloak flapping out behind her.

"What is it, my child?" Tazer lulled, hovering sleepily out of his room. "It is barely morning and yet here I am, awake."

"I'm sure that whatever Hero has to tell us is more important than sleep, my friend," Rik drawled, eyes remaining glued to the parchment before him.

Ami wanted to spit, but there was no saliva in the desert her mouth had become. It had been almost a month since the Mirialan had come to live with them, and she still hadn't been able to shake her loathing of him. He always appeared in places you didn't want him to be, and at the most inappropriate times. His eyes lingered too long, his ears heard too much, and his fingers touched things that didn't belong to him. An unwholesome character if ever she knew one.

"Come on, Hero," Ilyaa said, hopping up next to her on the settee, "Spit it out."

Ami opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her heart began to speed up, so she closed her eyes and focused her mind on becoming one with the Force. After a few seconds of shallow meditation, she felt like she could speak again.

"Has anyone in here been down to the market lately?" she rasped, mouth still dry. "Because something _huge_ has happened. _Huge_."

Ilyaa scoffed. "If it's that huge then now is not the time for dramatics. Just tell us!"

"Nahala Dor," Tazer wheezed, resting a three-fingered hand on her head, "Give your sister time to recover. She is still processing whatever it is she just heard."

Ami lifted herself into a sitting position and covered her eyes. There was no doubt now that everyone in the room knew how upset she was.

"Uh…" she grunted, trying to begin, "So there's this purge going on…"

She paused, attempting to find sufficient words to express the enormity of what she was about to say. She was too scared to think, and that in itself terrified her even more.

"Um… different people have different stories about who's doing it. Some say it's the Sith returning, some say it's bounty hunters, some say it's an old group of acolytes that call themselves knights or something. They're hunting down all the Jedi - from younglings to masters - and they're even going so far as to kill anyone who shows any kind of leaning toward the Force.

"You know those old X-Wings we saw arriving last month, Nahala?"

Ilyaa nodded, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide with shock.

"Someone told me those were actually Jedi seeking refuge. All of them were killed trying to slip off-world two nights ago."

"Oh my gods," Ilyaa cried, "You don't think it was y-… You don't think it was anyone we knew, do you?"

Ami shook her head and glanced at Rik through the corner of her eyes. He was still staring quite intensely at the books in front of him, but hadn't written anything in them for several minutes.

"No, I would've known about it if so," she responded, turning back to Tazer and Ilyaa. "Their bodies were tossed just outside the borders of Yvwatzë. I'm going to go see them and pay my respects, if anyone wants to join me."

"I do not think it wise for you to do that, Hero Chisum," Tazer said, gliding nearer, "It would be quite too gruesome a sight for such young eyes."

Now, it was Ami's turn to scoff. "Excuse me, Mr. Bartender, which of us in this building have seen people killed in horrendously large numbers, and afterward been forced to mingle with their lifeless bodies? By a show of hands!"

Ilyaa's hand slowly pushed itself into the air, hovering around her eyes in embarrassment. Ami swung hers up, extending her arm to its full length above her head. She glared between Tazer and Rik defiantly, daring them to compete with her tragedy.

"Yeah, didn't think so," she said, dropping her hand, "Pretty sure I'll be a-okay."

"My child," Tazer sighed, flapping closer, "In no way am I attempting to contest the tragedies you have been through in your short lifetime, but I must warn you that, if you decide to visit the Jedi remains at Yvwatzë, the memories you create will not be easily erased. What you find there can be only more tragedy."

"I don't care. I'm going." Ami started walking toward the elevator, when she was hit with a sudden realization. "How do you know what I'll find there?"

Tazer sighed and turned his back to them, head drooping toward his chest. He started gliding toward his bedroom, but Ami shot across the room and planted herself between the elderly Toydarian and his door.

"I see how it is," she spat, trying to catch his eye, "One of your drunk patrons told you about this a while ago, didn't they? You knew the entire time and didn't tell us! What kind of an uncle are you, huh? Did they visit the cantina?"

Tazer's eyes flicked up to briefly meet Ami's.

"So they did. A ticket out, and you never said a word." Her face felt like the skin was boiling, and her fists clenched so hard they began to ache. "What did they tell you about him?"

"Hero," Ilyaa warned.

"What? What did they tell you?" Ami muttered through clenched teeth, her entire body beginning to shake. Ilyaa's warning fell on deaf ears, ears that had forgotten their outside name.

Ami reached out and forcibly grabbed hold of the front of Tazer's vest in an attempt to intimidate him. Still, Tazer said nothing.

"Well," Ami said, voice shaking with rage, "I guess you just can't trust people, now, can you?" She pried her fingers off of his vest and, with great personal effort, stomped away from the Toydarian and into the elevator.

"You coming, Nahala?" she called over her shoulder as she grabbed the crank. A soft swish of robes told her that her young companion had entered the lift, and down they went, Rik's yellow eyes following them through the lattice of the elevator door.

 **Part Two**

The floor of their bedroom shook as the music from the cantina below boomed and vibrated. Ami and Ilyaa had never gotten used to the noise level, and even now slept with noise-canceling earwear.

Tonight, though, despite her earwear and constant meditation, Ami couldn't sleep. Images kept flashing in front of her eyes: the tortured, burned, and limbless bodies of the three Jedi murdered on the outskirts of Labellë were haunting her memories. It had been a mistake to go to them, but what else could she do? To leave them hanging there in ignominy, without identity and without someone to grieve them, would have been akin to abandoning her beliefs in the Force and the heritage of her family.

She stood up from the bottom bunk and yanked the earwear off her head. If she couldn't sleep, she may as well be productive.

Sitting down at the desk propped against the back wall of the room, she reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out a hide-bound book of paper, an inkwell, and a writing quill. Tazer insisted they keep journals using this ancient method of communication, as that was the way he kept all his records. He believed that people were far more hesitant to steal information from you if it wasn't easily accessed from a computer databank.

Ami turned to make sure Ilyaa was asleep facing the opposite direction, then switched on a small light attached to the wall above the desk. She looked over the last entry she'd made, dated over a month ago:

 _3rd Day of the Month of Ralö, Year 5 of Separation_

 _Today marks my 17th birthday. Or at least I think it does - I'm pretty sure the Galactic Calendar I have is a bootleg copy somebody drew out of memory after a long night at Tazer's bar. Besides, it's so confusing to have to go by both the Galactic Calendar AND the Dorulian Calendar! Heck, this month isn't even necessarily the Month of Ralö…_

 _But that's beside the point. It's my 17th birthday. It's been almost 5 years since Ithor. Why hasn't anyone come for me? I keep asking myself this question, over and over, in my head, all-day-every-day. My memory of what happened after I woke up from the fighter crash is very spotty - there's lots of dead people and a vague, blurry memory of Uncle Luke helping me drink water and telling me I was dead, and then nothing until several days after he dumped us here. At least, I'm pretty sure he's the one who dumped us here… Tazer says that's what happened, so I guess I believe him, even if I can't remember it._

 _It's funny how I can "see the future" and yet remembering the past is so difficult._

 _But anyway… He might have told me about what happened at Ithor, why I was "dead." I feel like he would've done that. Except for that part where I can't remember anything._

 _What is even KEEPING YOU HERE?!_

 _Take Ilyaa, get on one of the transports out, and LEAVE! Go join the Resistance! Where the Resistance is, your family is. If mom was killed you'd've heard about it and felt it by now, which means that she's still alive. You know for a fact that Ben's still alive. Daddy's got to be alive, because the only thing that could kill him is his own damn self. What are you still DOING here?!_

Ami smacked herself on the forehead. If only she had done just that, before the Jedi purge, there may still have been hope for the two of them to get away safely. But, she couldn't change the past, so she continued reading:

 _I'll tell you why you're still here. You're afraid. You're too damn pale. You don't want to have to go through the danger and uncertainty that would accompany a journey to your family. What if the First Order got hold of you? What if mom and daddy don't recognize you, or reject you as an imposter because their daughter has been dead for five years? What if something happens to Ilyaa on the way? You could never forgive yourself for taking her from safety just for your own selfishness._

 _You know what else you are? You're an entitled, privileged, proud little Bantha turd. If they wanted to find you, they'd come find you, right? You're that important! Oh ho, look at you, little miss -_

Ami quickly turned to a blank page. She knew what came next, and it was just more self-bashing. Because deep down inside, she was disgusted with herself. She was too afraid to attempt finding her family, and too uncertain of their reception of her if she did. The First Order was no longer actively hunting down Force-users, but they also weren't going to let someone with her skills and family history just slip through the galaxy unstopped. Their spies were everywhere.

"Coward," the word slipped out, low and angry, hanging in the air like a painful welt. She felt herself slip further into the deep, dark water of the spiritual well she had fallen into five years ago. She woke up in the morning hating herself, went to bed at night hating herself, and spent every waking minute with herself trying to pretend like she was okay. It was utterly exhausting.

Her parents wouldn't have stayed in this place, cowering and slinking around under false pretenses and with false names. They would have escaped, would have conquered their personal darkness and inner chaos. They were _heroes,_ as she pretended to be. Amidala Solo was no Hero, no matter what kind of inspired name she gave herself.

But she couldn't keep wallowing in her failings, so she picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink, and began writing.

 _21st day of the Month of Xyllällillië, Year 5 of Separation_

 _What a month. I avoid this month. I mean, what kind of a name is Xyllällillië? According to the natives it's the name of a spiritual leader from the beginning of time, but what mother would name their child that? Unless they were mourning its birth. Then it's feasible. Probably the name means "Bed of Sorrow" or something else equally sad and pathetic. Names like that always do._

Ami paused. Her writings couldn't all be the snide musings of her bitter mind. She hated the idea of writing only to document things, but the more she thought about it, the more appropriate it seemed. There was a new, creepy resident in their household, all the Jedi were dead, and there was a possibility that a time would come when she'd regret not having written things down. She picked the pen back up…

 _So Tazer hired a merc a few weeks ago. He's Mirialan, and you know they do that whole tattoo thing when they complete something meaningful, like a task or a mission. He has strange, symmetric tattoos covering almost his entire face. Pretty sure they're for all the people he's killed._

 _If my mother was here she'd berate me for assuming something based on a person's appearance. Thanks, mom. You instilled a conscience in me._

 _But hey, there's still daddy, telling me to trust my gut and that people look the way they do for a reason. There's a vibe they want to give off. This guy's vibe is "killer-maniac," so I'm betting that's what he is. Bet HE hasn't completed the Kessel Run in under 12 parsecs. Maybe the Killer Run in over 12 bodies._

"That's not funny," Ilyaa interjected over the cantina music, jarring Ami enough for her to make a large ink blot on the paper.

Ami turned slowly to face Ilyaa on the top bunk. If looks could kill, Ami's would probably cause serious injury.

"Well excuse me for inheriting part of my father's personality," she yelled sardonically, "You, however, won't be excused for reading over my shoulder into my personal musings. Do I open your book and read it?"

"Well do you?" Ilyaa rejoined, eyes glowing in the light of the desk lamp.

"Nope, sure don't," Ami responded, her baby blues unwaveringly meeting the shining yellow ones above her.

Ilyaa held the gaze; then, after several tense seconds, rolled over and covered her head with blankets.

"Put your earwear back on, chump," Ami called up to her.

As soon as she saw the covers stop moving again, she let out an exasperated sigh and returned to her writing.

 _He calls himself Rik, and insists that we call him the same thing. Riktorr Tolbey is his full name - at least, that's what he tells us. So far as I've seen, he does a good job managing the bar and taking care of my uncle's accounts, but he always has this look in his eyes that makes me think he's plotting something demented. Uncle Tazer's cantina is a booming business, and it makes him a lot of money. Maybe this guy saw an opportunity for a quick & easy credit, and decided to take it… I guess we'll see as the weeks go on. _

_The Jedi are all dead. That's what they're telling me. Those bastards in the First Order hunted them down and killed them, killed them all. Sometimes I wonder if Master Skywalker made it - I like to think I would've felt it if he'd been killed, but I don't know what that even feels like._

Ami paused, leaning back in her chair. Did she really want to reveal this much information about herself? If that merc saw it, he could use it to manipulate them, or do something new and more twisted than she could imagine. Who knew what went through that man's mind?

Suddenly, the music down below stopped. She slipped outside the bedroom door and approached the living room windows, the top of the glowing blue _Tazer's_ sign making it seem almost as bright as daylight inside. She enjoyed watching the patrons leave, most of them falling into waiting Sky Cars, some of them staggering down the street and around the corner toward Rue Stiika. It would be several hours before Tazer and Rik returned upstairs, so she decided to use the quiet time to try and meditate again. Ami's already anxious nature had been amplified after the events surrounding her arrival on Dorullë - and now this purge of the Jedi - and she would rather not try to claim the record of being the youngest human girl to die of a heart attack.

She pattered back into her room, locked their door behind her, and laid down on her bunk. Closing her eyes, she began to focus on steadying her heartbeat.

 _Thumpity… Thumpity… Thumpity…_

Gradually, her mind emptied of all the worries of the day, leaving only the thought of light and warmth and the feeling of peace, interrupted only by the light tug of a premonition. Ami remained in that place for an immeasurable amount of time, mind floating through the cosmos, tethered to her body by the growing strand of dread; slowly, she began to re-open her mind to the world around her. Ilyaa's steady breath above her, the faint bloops and whooshes of the Sky Cars outside, a dark cloud of feeling on the floor below her, the pulsing of the tide in the Labellë City Lake…

A sudden realization struck her: the dark cloud of feeling she connected with wasn't from the merc, which was what she'd assumed at first. Ami probed deeper into the feeling, picking out separate emotions: fear, pain, anger, hopelessness, and panic. At this point of the night, there should only be two people downstairs, which led to one conclusion.

Ami shot out of bed, smacking her head against the top bunk. Tazer must be in some kind of danger for such strong, negative emotions to be flowing from him.

"Ilyaa!" she hissed, pounding on the bunk above her. "Wake up! Tazer's in trouble!"

A flurry of motion, then Ilyaa was swinging down from the bunk in her blue night-tunic and breeches.

"Let's go," the young Twi'lek firmly demanded, unlocking their bedroom door.

Ami slipped into her spiked, black boots and followed Ilyaa out into the living quarters, moving as silently as possible. They crossed through the living area and into the kitchen; Ilyaa grabbed a long, metal rolling pin and Ami tucked a heavy knife into the back of her belt.

"Give me Tazer's icon," Ami whispered to Ilyaa, gesturing toward a carved, wooden statue the size of her head.

"Use the Force, why dontcha," Ilyaa scoffed, flinging the icon at Ami.

Their feet made no sound as they glided across the polished marble floor and down the service stairs next to the elevator. When they arrived at the cantina door, they heard loud, angry voices emanating from the other side.

"I told you, old man!" Rik screamed, "Either hand over the business, or I will sell them to the highest bidder!"

"I heard you the first time," Tazer rasped, "And my answer remains the same: I will not hand over my business or my wards. Say what you will, but I would rather die than bow to your hideous demands."

Ami used the Force to pull the hydraulic door open several inches in an attempt to see what was going on. At first, neither girl could see anything except the empty stage and a few toppled tables, but the Mirialan soon stormed into view, picked up a glass chair and heaved it against the opposite wall. They heard the chair shatter upon impact, and Rik again disappeared from sight.

"You don't seem to understand the implications of what I'm saying," Rik snarled. "Your precious little 'wards,' as you call them, are Jedi spawn."

Ami's heart almost jumped out through her throat. Trembling, she frantically waved Ilyaa back up the service stairs. The young one turned and ran, her face contorted with fear.

"Do you know what the bounty is for anything even closely resembling a Jedi?" Rik continued, "Over 70,000 credits! And that's just from the First Order - the Hutts are willing to pay triple that."

Ami, brain spinning with fear, Force-pushed the door all the way open and cautiously stuck her head through. The cantina, now empty, looked exactly how she thought it would: the polished mahogany floors were covered in trampled food, used Death Stix, and spilled drinks with the odd bodily fluid mixed in. The gilded walls and glass furniture were smudged by smoke and thousands of greasy hand-prints. If someone unfamiliar with _Tazer's_ had walked in at that moment, they would have had a hard time believing that it was an up-scale bar serving only the most well-connected and monied individuals in the galaxy.

Rik and Tazer stood facing each other across the marble bar, shards of glass covering the countertop and the floor around it. She knew how she would down the merc, but first she had to get him away from Tazer.

Ami took the kitchen knife out of her belt, stepped into the cantina, and threw the wooden icon at Rik. It struck him square in the temple, causing him to stagger away from the bar area and fall to the floor.

Ami flew across the room, kitchen knife aloft, and flung herself onto the merc's prone body. As the breath left his lungs, she brought the knife down to run through his chest, screaming with all her might. All the glass shards scattered across the ground rose up to join the knife, shooting toward the merc so fast they appeared invisible. In the blink of an eye - even before the knife - they had all embedded themselves into Rik's arms and chest.

Through the corner of her eye, Ami saw a blurry, blue wall hurtle toward her. Mere centimeters before her hand dealt the killing blow, she found herself flat on the ground, ears ringing from the unexpected impact.

"No, Amidala!" Tazer cried, knocking the knife out of her hand. "There is no need for killing here. We must summon the Enforcers!"

Ami struggled to her feet, gasping for breath. She hazily watched the knife slide into the opposite wall and staggered toward it, hand outstretched, jumbled mind trying desperately to pull it back to herself. She made it only a few steps before she felt a searing pain in her right shoulder, the force of which threw her back to the floor.

"Noooo!"

The sound of blaster fire and Tazer's wails of agony came to Ami as if from a great distance. With extraordinary effort, she managed to turn back toward the scuffle. The squeal of a blaster, the orange flash of its laser, and a rippling thump that caused the floor to shake told her something her unfocused eyes could not: her uncle had been murdered.

Suddenly, her head was being heaved from the floor - it was time to get up. She staggered to her feet and was steadied by a blurry, purple blob that weakly pulled her toward the elevator.

"Mimi!" the blob screamed, "We have to leave!"

Ami's vision began to refocus. Ilyaa, face full of terror, ran around to her back and began pushing. The merc lay moaning on the floor, blaster in hand, torso filled with glass and oozing pale, blue blood. Tazer lay unmoving on top of Rik's legs, pinning them to the ground; even in death, he was trying to protect the children in his care.

Finally, the girls were inside the elevator. Ilyaa slammed the doors shut, grabbed the crank, and frantically shunted them to the first floor. As the cart slammed to the ground, she threw open the doors and tried to make a run for the street, but Ami caught her.

"We can't just go running," Ami gasped. An intense, searing pain was beginning to emanate from her left shoulder. "It's past curfew, and any minors caught past curfew are taken to The Enforcement. We _have_ to be careful."

"Better to be in The Enforcement than killed by that maniac upstairs!" Ilyaa cried, jerking away and into the empty foyer. "Who knows how long it'll take him to recover? And when he does, he's going to come for us. He's going to find us, and _kill_ us! We have to get away NOW!"

"You don't think I KNOW that?" Ami yelled, cradling her injured arm, "I understand our situation! I understand ALL of it, not just this one part."

She stepped closer to Ilyaa and bent at the waist, towering over her like a wampa atop its prey.

"When the Enforcers catch us," she continued in a low, menacing voice, "They'll take our identification chips. When they take our identification chips, they'll scan them into their security database. When they scan them into their security database, they'll find that Hero Chisum and Nahala Dor don't exist, and therefore we have illegal fake identities. When they find that out, they'll throw us in the lock up and interrogate us. When they interrogate us, _you_ will cave because you're just a child, and they will find out everything about us. When they get this information, we will be surrendered to the First Order to be imprisoned, enslaved, executed, or twisted into weapons meant to destroy the Resistance."

Ami paused, letting her words hang in the air between them. She could see tears shining in Ilyaa's eyes, her body trembling with fear. She was so small, so helpless.

"I don't want you to have that hanging over your head," Ami said, kneeling to eye-level. "I can't even begin to imagine the level of guilt that would accompany something like that, even if it wasn't your fault."

Ilyaa nodded, tears spilling silently down her cheeks. Ami hated herself.

"Now, we're going to the nearest Tube Transport Station. The only safe place for us right now is Yvwatzë, so that's where we have to go. Can you -"

Behind them, the door to the service stairs swung open. Ami twirled around to face it, pushing Ilyaa behind her back.

A slow, scuffling sound echoed from the dark stairwell, heralding the appearance of the wounded Rik, blood oozing from dozens of holes in his arms and chest, most of which still had shards of glass embedded in them. A blaster, which had previously been hanging limp in his hand, shakily rose in the girls' direction.

"Get out!" Ami yelled, grabbing Ilyaa and rushing toward the door. Orange blaster fire pinged off the metal walls, blasting holes in the mahogany floor and bouncing out into the street. The girls skidded into the open and sprinted to the nearest Tube Transport Station, an infuriated scream following them all the way.


End file.
